Emperatrices transmigradas (hombres y mujeres)

Capítulo 1

Please tread lightly and hold your breath; you have entered a terrifying and eerie space. A chilling wind swirls beneath your feet, that slight tremor an echo of the underworld. Remember to close your door securely. In the fleeting moment when the beautiful maiden from the story turned her head with deep affection, Death gazed sorrowfully upon the mortal realm. Blood has already flowed; listen, what is that heavy breathing behind you?!

Story 1: The Corpse Whisperer (by Iron Fist Invincible)

1. A bizarre robbery case

It was another dreadful rainy day. The rain kept pouring down, the water cascading down the streets, and Curry's mood was just as terrible as the rain.

"Honestly, patrolling in this heavy rain? I'm not some law enforcement officer... Besides, no thief would be stupid enough to choose this kind of weather to commit a crime!" Although he was currently sitting in his car, sheltered from the wind and rain, most people, except for those with peculiar tastes, wouldn't be in a good mood on a rainy day like this. This necessitates the most thorough security measures.

World leaders gathered in this city for a meeting, leaving the police force severely understaffed. In the end, even members of the special operations team, such as Curry, who specializes in investigating mysterious cases, had to be deployed.

Just as Curry was complaining to himself, an order suddenly came through the walkie-talkie: "X001, emergency! Proceed immediately to the commercial bank on Xingluo Street. Someone has robbed an armored truck."

"Damn it! What bad luck!" Curry cursed the stupid thief who couldn't even pick the right weather as he drove toward Xingluo Street.

When he arrived at Xingluo Street, the police officers who had arrived earlier had already cordoned off the scene, but it seemed that the robbers had already escaped. However, what puzzled Curry was that there was no sense of tight security here at all, but rather an eerie atmosphere permeated the air—not only did the passersby who witnessed the robbery seem to be in great fear, huddled in corners, but even some of the young police officers had expressions of panic on their faces.

"What's going on?" Curry wondered, grabbing an umbrella from the back seat and getting out of the car. He went straight to an older police officer. This man was Sheriff Simpson, an old friend of Curry's, a seasoned and courageous officer, but the expression on his face was somewhat unusual.

"Hey buddy, how's it going?"

“They ran away…they ran away, they all ran away…” Simpson murmured.

Why didn't you shoot?

"Shoot?" Simpson turned to Curry, gave a bitter smile, and said, "Of course we shot. What else could we do? The armed security guards escorting the vehicle opened fire before we even arrived, but what good did it do? They didn't even flinch when hit!"

"A new type of bulletproof vest?"

Simpson shook his head and said, "It doesn't seem like it... We just checked, there were no ricocheting bullets on the ground, the bullets should still be embedded in their bodies... But, for some reason, they seem uninjured!"

"Doesn't look like he's injured?" Curry paid special attention to Simpson's choice of words.

“Sigh, I can’t be sure if they’re injured, or even…” Simpson paused abruptly, forgetting to look around, and then whispered to Curry, “I can’t even be sure if they’re human…”

"What? You feel that way?" This question truly piqued Curry's interest.

"Yes, they were incredibly strong! There were four of them, and six armed security guards escorting the vehicle. Seeing that shooting was useless, the guards tried to fight hand-to-hand, but they were thrown a great distance away. One was slightly injured, four were seriously injured, and the last one was unlucky—his ribs pierced his heart, and he died instantly..."

Upon hearing this, Curry couldn't help but gasp. He understood why the witnesses and the police who arrived later had such expressions.

“So, I ordered my men that even if shooting didn’t work, they absolutely must not fight…” Simpson paused, then asked Curry, “Brother, do you think I did the right thing? I actually gave such an absurd order, completely failing in my duty as a police officer… If those officials knew, they would probably laugh at me for being a coward!”

Curry put his hand on Simpson's shoulder and comforted him, "You did the right thing. Knowing you're outmatched but still going for it is the act of a brainless brute, it's unwise. Although the duty of the police is to protect the lives and property of citizens, in this situation, it's probably not that simple, and even if you risk your life, it will be a pointless sacrifice."

The rain was still falling, and more police officers arrived one after another. Having not witnessed any robbery, the officers remained calm, methodically maintaining order and comforting the frightened citizens.

“Report, we’ve discovered something, but…” A voice came from the walkie-talkie in Simpson’s hand. It was a report from the police officer in charge of the tracking ahead, but the other party’s tone was very unnatural, and he seemed to want to say something but stopped himself.

"Tell me what you found!" Simpson shouted, venting all his pent-up frustration on the other person.

"But...we don't know how to say it, we don't know what we've discovered..."

"What?!" Simpson almost cursed his subordinate for being useless, but Curry held him back, signaling him not to get angry.

“Brother, you…” Simpson was a little puzzled.

Curry said, "Something's fishy. I think we should go to the scene and see for ourselves. Maybe it really is beyond words!"

“Since you put it that way, brother, then let’s make the trip!” Simpson sighed, but he immediately added, “If those guys really are useless, you’ll be in for it if you protect them!”

“No problem!” Curry smiled, but his heart was heavy. He knew from experience and intuition that this was far more complex than a simple robbery. A dozen minutes later, Curry drove Simpson to an abandoned factory in the suburbs—the place where the officers tracking the robbers would report any developments. They got out of the car. The rain had stopped, the sky was clearing, but a foul, fishy smell lingered in the air.

“No, this isn’t the smell of mud after the rain… it smells like rotting corpses!” Curry sniffed and said.

“You’re too sensitive, bro…” Simpson looked around first, then also smelled the strange odor; apparently, his senses were a bit dull. “Oh, right! I smell it too! Something’s not right!”

Just then, some police officers who had arrived earlier came over and handed him a mask sprayed with perfume. Curry took the mask, put it on, and then quickly ran into the abandoned factory building. Apparently, the strange thing they had been talking about was there.

Four bodies lay on the ground. Some people were taking pictures of the bodies, while others frowned, as if they had encountered some difficult problem.

"They're just some corpses! You guys just wouldn't say anything, and we had to come and see for ourselves!" Simpson said, somewhat annoyed.

“But they… judging from their appearance… should, should be bandits…” a young policeman stammered, speaking very cautiously.

"What a joke! Judging from the state of decomposition, even a layman could tell they'd been dead for at least two weeks!" Simpson shouted, feeling mocked.

"Calm down." Curry wasn't in a hurry. He asked the surrounding police officers, "Are you sure it was them who robbed the bank?"

One of the officers leading the team nodded and said, "Yes. We tracked them all the way here from the crime scene, but we kept our distance because we were a little... scared. But we definitely saw all four of them enter here, and their physical characteristics match. Besides, the money they stole is still here untouched."

"Hmm. Did you search this place thoroughly for any escape routes? This might be a ruse by the bandits, trying to use the corpse to deceive us... but the possibility is very small," Curry said after thinking for a moment. He himself felt that this reasoning was not very sound. If the bandits wanted to escape, why would they look for a rotting corpse? This doesn't make sense at all, and it wouldn't achieve their goal! Also, the bandits didn't take the money they stole, so assuming the four of them really escaped, what was their motive? Was it simply for the thrill? That doesn't make sense!

Just as he was pondering, the forensic pathologist in charge of examining the body handed him the preliminary autopsy report from the scene. Curry glanced at it, then suddenly looked up and said, "Excuse my bold speculation, but this is an extremely unusual case!"

All eyes were on him. He paused for a moment and said, "If I'm not mistaken, this is a case of a murder committed with a corpse. In other words, the body we've found is that of the robber from earlier!"

“Dude, you’re kidding me!” Simpson shouted.

“Look for yourself!” Curry shoved the report in front of Simpson, who snatched it and looked at it with a mocking expression. As he read, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“Tell me this isn’t true!” Simpson said, trembling as he held the report.

"The bullets found on them were the security guards' bullets, and the number matches. Can you still say these are other bodies? Didn't you also think the bullets hit them?" Curry asked.

"But that's different!"

“Nothing’s different! If it’s a corpse, then everything makes sense!” Corey said with a hint of smugness, like a detective uncovering the truth.

“So…” Simpson thought for a moment and felt that this was indeed the only plausible explanation. Some of the police officers also agreed, while only a few remained skeptical.

“However, I still have one question.” Curry sighed, somewhat helplessly. “I still don’t fully understand what these corpses are. If they are zombies, why aren’t they moving now? Is it because the rain has stopped? Or…”

"You don't need to guess anymore! This case is now fully under our control! All irrelevant personnel, please leave immediately and forget all about it!" Just then, someone swaggered in with a group of people.

"Oh, who do we have here! It's Team Leader Curry!" The leader smiled insincerely. He was Gabe, the head of the Hellhounds Special Operations Group, responsible for investigating bizarre cases. Curry, on the other hand, was the leader of the Silver Tigers Group, and the two were rivals. "This case has been assigned to us by the higher-ups, but if Team Leader Curry is willing, feel free to come and observe—mutual observation and learning are essential for improvement, right? The opportunity to earn merit will definitely be ours! Hahahaha!"

“Thank you very much!” Curry smiled and replied. Although he had no intention of stealing credit from Gabe, the case itself had indeed piqued his interest. Even without praise, uncovering the truth was the greatest pleasure! That was Curry's thinking; no wonder his subordinates often said he handled cases like an innocent child. Because he was this kind of "pragmatist," he didn't flatter or pander to his superiors, which was why he hadn't been promoted to a higher position. However, the power of this independent investigative agency directly under the government was considerable, and the convenience of investigating cases made Curry content.

A thin, elderly man dressed in black emerged from behind Gabu, squatted down in front of the corpse, and examined it carefully, turning it over and over. He didn't even wear a mask, sniffing the corpse directly with his nose, and even showed an expression of rapture.

“Come on, let me introduce you. This is our group’s treasure—Teacher Guo, known as ‘the friend of the corpse,’” Gabe said proudly.

"Oh?" Curry had also heard of this Master Guo's reputation. It was said that he was best at extracting clues from corpses, and his understanding of corpses was no less than his understanding of his closest friends—that was the origin of his nickname.

"Hello, Teacher Guo!" Out of politeness and respect for his senior, Ke Li stepped forward to shake hands with Master Guo, but Master Guo seemed not to see him.

"Haha, no use! As soon as Teacher Guo saw the corpse, he forgot everything else! He didn't even see you reach out!" Gabe said with a sly smile. Actually, he was happy to see Curry make a fool of himself.

Curry didn't say anything; he didn't care about such trivial matters, but was more curious about what Master Guo had discovered.

"The corpses are like my friends, they can talk... Yes, I can hear them talking, recounting everything they've seen and experienced..." Master Guo muttered to himself in a low, eerie tone as he examined the body. Gabu shrugged, indicating his helplessness. Indeed, to an outsider, the person speaking these words would certainly seem mentally unstable.

“What did they say?” Curry asked.

“I’m not the best at understanding the language of corpses. I can only hear them speak, but I can’t talk to them…” Master Guo seemed not to hear Curry’s words and continued examining the corpse, muttering to himself, “Those who can talk to corpses are called ‘corpse whisperers.’ They are the ones who truly understand corpses. They are not friends of the corpses, but their…masters.” At this point, Master Guo suddenly turned his head and glanced at Curry, his expression filled with deep disappointment and sorrow, causing Curry to shudder.

Curry stood up, and Gabe patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Don't worry about it. That's just how Teacher Guo is. He gets too involved, so his mental state gets a little... haha. Team Leader Curry, don't get too involved in your work either. This is a lesson learned!"

"Oh, okay. Thank you! I have other things to do, so I'll be going now!" Seeing that he couldn't get any more useful information, Corey gave a few perfunctory replies and left the scene. He needed to find a quiet place to think about what had happened.

"Then I won't see you off!" Gabe still had that forced smile on his face; although he was polite on the surface, it made people feel uncomfortable. However, Curry didn't care about that at the moment.

2. The person who talks to the corpse

Curry dragged his tired body home. As soon as he opened the door, a large dog, more than half his height, pounced on him and began licking him with its warm, drool-covered tongue.

"Little B, don't do that!" Faced with such an affectionate dog, Curry could only smile wryly. "Enough, enough, stop licking... Go get the slippers!" Fortunately, Little B was quite sensible. After a bit of affection, it obediently brought the slippers and handed them to Curry.

"Good boy, I'll give you some canned food later!" Curry stroked Little B's head to show his praise. In his home, where he was a single man approaching 30, Little B was his only companion. It was quite a coincidence that the two of them had such a connection. Curry found Little B three years ago at his doorstep. At that time, it was just a tiny puppy lying shivering in a cardboard box, barely able to stand. But three years later, Little B had grown into a powerful dog, more than half a person's height. As for why it was called "Little B," that involves the mystery of its origins: when it was found, it had a very delicate silver name tag around its neck with the capital letter "B" on it, hence its current name. Even now, that name tag still hangs on Little B's collar.

There's another mystery surrounding Little B: its breed. Curry consulted many "experts," but none could answer. Little B's physical characteristics resemble a Scottish Collie, but it has black and white fur and a perfectly regular cross-shaped marking on its head. "Maybe it's some kind of mixed breed? Purebreds don't have that..." a professor, annoyed by Curry's persistent questioning, offered this dismissive answer. But Curry continued to adore Little B, not primarily because he disdained those self-proclaimed experts, but because his affection for Little B was genuine. Whether it was purebred or not, as long as it was Little B, Curry's good friend, that was enough.

Lying on the sofa with Little B, Curry idly flipped through TV channels. Little B had already devoured a can of beef, while Curry, a single man without a wife, was forced to eat beer for dinner. "Beer is liquid bread..." he consoled himself (actually, he was just deceiving himself), since it was his own fault for being too lazy to cook.

"...Yesterday, four armed robbers robbed a commercial bank on Xingluo Street. One security guard was killed and five were injured. Fortunately, the police responded in time and eventually killed all the robbers in an abandoned factory in the suburbs, and recovered all the stolen money..." That's what the TV said. "What a load of bull!" Curry cursed, but then he thought, what else could he say? That a bunch of zombies committed the crime and scared the police to death? Sigh, sometimes, the less people know, the better. If he told people that the robbers died on their own, and had been dead for more than two weeks, who would believe him? Besides, it would be even worse if they did believe him! Just thinking about all the issues that would arise from revealing the truth gave Curry a headache. "I'm just a special police officer. My job is to find out the truth. As for whether the higher-ups will make the truth public, I don't care!" With that thought, he finally untied the knot in his heart and finished the rest of his beer in one gulp.

“I’m going to take a shower and then go to sleep,” Curry said to Little B as he got up from the sofa. He thought Little B really understood him. Sure enough, Little B got up too and climbed into the little bed prepared for it. “Who says animals only have conditioned reflexes? They have feelings too, at least Little B does; it’s my most loyal companion.” Thinking of this, Curry couldn’t help but smile. The night was still the same night, unchanged, but not far away, in the main building of a medical school, a different drama was unfolding. Fate is so good at playing tricks, arranging different scripts, some happy, some tragic, for different characters, and you have no choice but to act according to these scripts, even knowing that the ending is destined to be tragic…

"Damn it, the power had to go out at this time... This building is really something, rooms on both sides, not a single window in the hallway. Ugh, even a little moonlight would be nice..." Professor Qu cursed, but still had to grope along the walls, following the route he remembered, stumbling towards the stairs. The dark hallway was silent, only the sound of his frantic footsteps echoing in the silence. Although darkness seemed calm, the psychological pressure it brought was immense—from ancient times to the present, humanity has always felt an infinite fear of the unknown. At this moment, he deeply understood this; his heart pounded violently, as if it might burst from his chest at any moment; he looked around in terror, but unfortunately, human vision in the dark is limited, which only made him feel that terrifying monsters might pounce from all directions at any moment and swallow him whole.

When he was under intense tension and leaned against the wall to catch his breath, he clearly heard footsteps coming from a meter or two behind him.

In an instant, he felt a chill run down his spine, as if a cold emanated from every pore of his body, and his breathing became labored. "This is an illusion, a hallucination..." he told himself over and over, trying to calm himself down, but his legs still trembled uncontrollably; "Huff, huff..." he gasped for breath, trying to control his fear, but like the previous man, it was to no avail.

The footsteps were unusually slow, and it was definitely not an illusion. A slightly pungent odor wafted from there, a smell Professor Qu was very familiar with, even more so than the smell of cooking oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar. That's right, it was formaldehyde, the smell of formaldehyde used to preserve corpses.

Normally, Professor Qu would stand on the podium with a beaming smile, admiring the various expressions on the faces of the medical students who were facing a corpse for the first time, while sniffing and uttering his oft-repeated boast: "Smell it, how familiar the smell of formaldehyde is, you'll get used to it in the future." But now, only darkness was concealing his deathly pale face.

"No, don't come any closer! Please don't come any closer!" He prayed silently as he tried to move his feet. But his legs wouldn't obey him; his left leg buckled, and he collapsed to the ground. "I can't die yet!" Driven by a strong will to live, he crawled on his hands and feet, trying to get away from the mysterious footsteps.

The footsteps grew closer, and the smell of formaldehyde grew stronger. Finally, Professor Qu retreated to a dead corner in the corridor, and the footsteps stopped in front of him. Although he couldn't feel any body temperature, Professor Qu instinctively sensed someone standing in front of him, and the lingering smell of formaldehyde added to the oppressive feeling of danger.

"You saw something you shouldn't have seen, and you will pay the price for it!" A cold voice came from a distance of three to five meters.

"No! I didn't see anything, I didn't see anything!" Professor Qu cried out, his voice trembling with sobs. Although he said this, he knew very well what the other person meant by "things I shouldn't have seen."

About half an hour earlier, Professor Qu, who was on duty at the main teaching building of the medical school, only needed to patrol the entire building before returning to his duty room to comfortably watch a football game all evening in the air-conditioned room. As he returned from the top floor to the first floor, he suddenly remembered that he hadn't checked the basement. Since it housed the morgue for anatomy classes, most people on duty would deliberately ignore it, figuring it was just a formality and the higher-ups wouldn't care. But Professor Qu, having taught anatomy to his students for so many years, considered handling cadavers commonplace and felt nothing to be afraid of, so he nonchalantly went down to inspect the basement. When he reached the door of the innermost morgue, he heard faint voices coming from inside. Although somewhat frightened, he held his breath and pressed his ear to the door to hear what was being said.

"Jikhado, Museruk..." The unknown language sounded like a spell or a scripture, chanted faster and faster until it finally merged into a dense buzzing sound, making it impossible to discern the individual syllables. Filled with intense curiosity, Professor Qu shakily pushed the door open a crack, seeing only a constantly shifting dark shadow projected onto the wall. Then, another figure slowly rose—as if someone had sat up in bed. Just then, the damned door hinges creaked open, and the person inside immediately stopped chanting, shouting fiercely, "Who's there?"

Professor Qu quickly released the door, preparing to run back to call the police. At that moment, he was still calculating that closing the basement door would keep the person inside at least ten minutes away. In that time, he could not only call the police but also wake the sleeping security guards to fight the assailant together—of course, he would only be in charge of command, but the credit would be considerable. But things didn't go as planned. Just as he was making his calculations, the lights in the hallway suddenly went out, plunging him into darkness. At the same time, he heard the morgue door being slammed open. He could only fumble for his way upstairs from memory, praying that the assailant wouldn't catch him, but in his panic, he missed his chance to go upstairs and was cornered.

"If only I hadn't taken this shift, hadn't been so bold as to check the morgue!" he lamented. But it was too late. A large, cold hand gripped his neck tightly, the strong smell of formaldehyde filling his nostrils. He tried to pry the strong hand away, but instead touched cold, stiff, and slippery skin—a sensation he knew all too well. "I finally understand…the person standing before me…that person was actually talking to a corpse…" His consciousness began to fade. The next morning.

"Good morning, Professor Qu!" A female student strained every muscle in her face, flashing a bright, sunny smile as she greeted him. To achieve the best grades in school and secure the best job upon graduation, some people are willing to go to any lengths, including employing a "beauty offensive." For them, youth, beauty, and even their bodies are capital for seizing power, fame, and status. As they unfurl a vast network of relationships that even the world's spiders couldn't weave, they gain more pawns to manipulate. Ingratiating themselves with the professor is merely the beginning. In this transaction… they don't lose out, and the professor doesn't gain much either, because if everything is planned well, the professor is simply a pawn in someone else's game, nothing more.

Contrary to his usual behavior, Professor Qu did not return the lecherous smile. Instead, he kept a straight face, did not even look at her, and walked straight past.

"Does the professor hate me? Did he find out that I spoke ill of Professor Liu to him? Or did he find out that we laughed at his baldness and called him 'Sha Wujing' behind his back?" The girl's face changed color, and she hurriedly tried to recall where she had offended Professor Qu.

In fact, she didn't notice Professor Qu's stiff expression, unpleasant complexion, or the purplish-red ligature mark on his neck.

Along the way, several acquaintances or students greeted Professor Qu, but he ignored them all. He simply walked through the corridor and the gate with a blank expression, heading straight out of the medical school.

As soon as he stepped outside, a large dog, taller than half a person, barked wildly, broke free from its owner's restraints, rushed over, and knocked him to the ground.

"I'm so sorry! Hey, Little B, how could you..." The dog's owner, Corey, immediately caught up and forcibly pulled away the still-barking Little B. "Are you hurt?" Corey asked hurriedly, praying that Little B wouldn't bump into this person, otherwise, as a special police officer, he wouldn't be able to explain himself. Running with Little B early in the morning was supposed to be a happy experience, but unexpectedly, things took a turn for the worse.

But Professor Qu, lying on the ground, showed no reaction, remaining motionless with a blank stare. No, it wasn't a blank stare at all; there wasn't a trace of life in his eyes!

Curry checked Professor Qu's breathing and, sure enough, there was no breath. He was shocked: "No way, he's...dead?" But he quickly regained the composure typical of an investigator. When Little B lunged, the man fell without any resistance; the movement was very unusual. And he didn't land headfirst; unless he had cardiovascular disease, he wouldn't have died so easily. He crouched down and carefully examined Professor Qu's body, easily noticing the bruised ligature mark on his neck. "At least it wasn't Little B's fault; that's the fatal wound! But...so, he was already dead then...was the corpse walking?" Although Little B was ruled out as a suspect, an even bigger question arose in Curry's mind.

Just as he was deep in thought, police cars and ambulances arrived one after another. It turned out that a passerby, a "helpful citizen" (or rather, a busybody), had called the police, and the police then called an ambulance.

"This person is already dead," a chubby doctor with gold-rimmed glasses said slowly after examining the body, waving to the accompanying medical staff that there was no need to resuscitate him.

"That mad dog pounced on him like a tiger, pinning him to the ground... Look, that dog is still so fierce, it has murderous eyes..." The witness vividly (or rather, embellished) described the scene to the police, occasionally pointing at Little B, who was still baring his teeth and growling softly. A policeman saluted Curry, seemingly preparing to "take over" Little B.